


it’s hard to see this time of night

by btaylor17



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btaylor17/pseuds/btaylor17
Summary: Peter’s having trouble in school. Tony should have seen the signs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone was wondering, the title is taking from Hippo Campus’ song “Bambi”, which I felt reflected Peter’s situation throughout this fic
> 
> Moving forward, there are a few key differences between this and what’s canon. The most prominent is Peter is not Spider-man, however Tony is Iron Man. The other Avengers exist too, and have just been pardoned to live back with the two at the compound. Lastly, there is nice Aunt May because I had a hard time incorporating her in a manner that would giver her justice. I love her though, don’t get me wrong!
> 
> Enjoy! It does get dark at some points so please head the warnings. Helpful comments are very appreciated :)

Peter stared in shock at the paper in front of him.

 _See Me_  was written in bold, red letters right next to the circled D- that took residency in the corner of his most recent essay.

Sure American History wasn’t Peter’s favorite subject, he was attending a STEM school afterall, but he didn’t understand why he was doing so poorly. Maybe he just needed to apply himself a little more. He definitely didn’t spend hours every weekend studying this stuff like he did with other subjects. As a result, this had to be his third bad score in just as many weeks. He couldn’t just _fail_  the class, what would Mr. Stark say?

A clap at the front of the room drew everyone's attention. “At this point all you of should have your latest grades back. Most papers were wonderful, along with a few pleasant surprises. However...” the teacher started, his blue eyes trailed in the direction of Peter. The boy couldn’t help but shrink under the gaze, but soon those same eyes flickered back to address the rest of the class. “There were a couple exceptions.”

Steven “Skip” Westcott was the newest addition to Midtown High School. The man had replaced the old American History teacher when she had resigned unexpectedly back in October. Skip was the youngest teacher the school had seen in years and was an instant hit with students and teachers alike. Many adults loved his passion for ensuring student success. Likewise, students liked him for his easy going nature and his love for what he taught. Within a short amount of time, the man had built a very positive reputation for himself.

“Moving forward, we are going to continue our talk on the Civil War…”

A soft buzz started in Peter’s ears as his mind wandered off. How could he be failing? History shouldn’t be that hard. As his teacher continued to lecture for the period, the noise only continued to grow louder, drowning out the man.

Peter only realized that any time had passed by the shrill sound of the bell signaling the end of class. Students shuffled past the teenager, many talking excitedly about their after school plans. He barely registered the reassuring squeeze Ned gave him as he passed. Once the classroom had cleared, Peter slid out of his desk and made his way to the front of the room.

“Ah, Mister Parker,” Skip greeted with a warm smile. “Please, take a seat.” Peter immediately dipped into the closest desk by him, looking up with big round eyes.

“Mister W-Westcott I-I-” Peter stammered before being cut off by the older man with a dismissive wave of the hand.

“I have to say, I was surprised when I first came here you seemed be the talk of the teachers. ‘Peter Parker this, Peter Parker that.’ Some teachers seemed to even go as far as to call you brilliant,” Mr. Westcott began thoughtfully, taking a seat on top of the desk across from the boy. Peter blushed under the praise, averting his gaze to his hands. He never did well with compliments. “However, since I’ve had the honor of teaching you, I have yet to see that brilliance in you.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up. He hated the hint of disappointment in the man’s voice. “Sir, I am so-” He started to apologize before being cut off, once again, with a quick shush.

“Peter, some teachers also talked about the incredible amount of stress you’ve been under. It’s not easy dealing with so much loss so young, I completely understand. Additionally, as your grades suggest, your performance in other subjects is outstanding,” Peter seemed to relax a little as disappointment seeped out of the man’s voice. “So, I’m willing to offer a makeup test as one last chance,” Skip finished excitedly.

The boy’s lit up with the offer. “Yes! Thank you so much sir,” Peter gushed, “I promise I won’t let you down.” This opportunity would fix everything. He could pass history, and Tony wouldn’t even need to know about his terrible grades. He was good at school, now was his chance to prove it.

“Perfect,” the older man smiled, “How does after your decathlon practice sound? I’ll be around pretty late tonight.”

The boy nodded enthusiastically and rushed to gather up his things so he wouldn’t be late for his next class, grateful for the second chance.

“Thank you sir, I won’t let you down.”

* * *

Tony couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The mark on Peter’s neck started at him, almost mocking. A splatter of red and purple adorned the pale skin, starkly out of place on the kid’s otherwise blemish free body. The man didn’t want to be fazed, he remembered being a teenager after all, but he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed at the fact that Peter could potentially be doing adult things. His sweet, loving, innocent Peter.

“Hey kid,” Tony called casually after a couple moments of staring, he had to get answers, “What’s that on your neck?”

Pete’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion with the question. Typically, he and Tony spent Saturday afternoons working in the lab engulfed in a comfortable silence, too engrossed in their own individual work to have many conversations of substance. These afternoons, more often than not, would fade into evenings with the only disruption being Pepper force feeding them sandwiches to ensure they weren’t running purely off of energy drinks and coffee. Saturday lab time was not for many verbal communications.

Tony laughed at the boy’s expression, it appeared that Peter was playing dumb to avoid getting caught. Kids are so transparent. As an effort to emphasize exactly what Tony was talking about he remarked, “Maybe Pepper can fix you up with some concealer for next time.”

Realization suddenly dawned in the boy’s eyes as his hands flew up to cover the mark of offense. He had hoped it would disappear by now. “Mister Stark I-I- it wasn’t I-” The boy started before stammering off into nothingness, clearly at a lack of words that could explain his situation.

“Just be sure you’re using protection,” Tony warned, his voice laced with amusement, “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Peter’s expression morphed into something Tony couldn’t quite decipher. Embarrassment, maybe? After a beat he eases back into his chair, his face slightly guarded.

“Chill, Mister Stark, it’s not like we’re doing BDSM or anything,” Peter mumbled, returning to the project on his table.

Now, It’s Tony’s turn to be shocked. Part of him wants to reprimand the boy for doing anything at all. He’s far too young for that kind of stuff, anyways. Sure, the kid is almost seventeen years old, yet Tony still sees the wide eyed fourteen year old boy who walked into his life three years ago. However, the older man is even more surprised that Peter knows what BDSM is. Maybe kids are just maturing at a faster rate than when Tony was growing up. Maybe times were just changing.

Tony realizes it’s been a moment too long where he hasn’t responded to the boy’s comment. He knows reprimanding the boy will get him nowhere. Peter was a teenager boy afterall, and teenage boys had needs. Additionally, it wasn’t like Tony had a squeaky clean record at this age either. He knew he needed to take a different route.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Tony asked instead. Peter face heats, but doesn’t answer, although his face looks like he’s fighting an internal battle. The older man’s confidence falters slightly, “Or guy? Guys are a cool too.” He supplies, attempting to fill in the awkward silence.

Peter just shrugs. “It’s none of your business,” he insists, suddenly not liking the amount of attention on him and his very personal life. He could try to play the cool card all he wants, but it’s really the last thing he wants to talk about. Tony wouldn’t understand.

“You know, Underoos,” Tony pushes, “I’m here to talk about anything you want.”

That odd look is back on the boy’s face before it disappears again. The boy is silent for a moment. “It’s not important,” he finally states, his voice growing irritable. Peter was never irritable. It throws Tony off guard.

“I mean it,” Tony pushes, he wants Peter to be comfortable with him. “Anything at all.”

“Can we just drop it?” Peter snaps, eyes watering when he turns to look at his mentor. Tony nodded, fully aware he crossed a boundary. He mentally makes a note to order from the kid’s favorite Thai place as an apology.

The rest of the night continues without incidence, although Peter seems to divert any questions away from him. Somehow they’ve lost their rhythm.

He tries to ignore the hurt when Peter doesn’t come down to work in the lab anymore on Saturdays.

* * *

“Stop playing with your food,” Tony reprimands from across the dining room table. He didn’t even look up from the Stark Pad in his hand before taking a bite off his own plate. Tony had grown used to eating to the sound of Peter’s constant rambling, but tonight the two sat in an unsettling silence.

Ever since Peter returned from school, Tony could tell something was wrong. He didn’t want to push the boy, though, the lab incident still fresh on his mind. He trusted Peter would come to him when he’s ready.

The teen looked up, startled, shocked that the older man had picked up on his tactic. Tony suppressed a laugh, Peter was never subtle at anything. Said kid looked down to the chicken and potato mush he had made on his plate before giving the older man a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Mister Stark.” It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t seem to stomach anything.

“Just eat your food,” Tony instructed, annoyance on the surface but fondness at the root. Both of them knew the words held no heat.

The older man never thought the parenting life was for him, yet here he was eating dinner with a teenager, no his teenager, on a Tuesday night. Since the death of Peter’s aunt two years ago, the two had formed their own makeshift family. Within the past year, the newly pardoned Avengers took residency in the compound again and Stark Industries grew exponentially. As a result, Pepper had always been gone for business and there was a slight tension spread throughout the compound. Tony was relieved to have a trustworthy constant in his life. So maybe, only with Peter, the parenting life was for Tony after all.

Peter grimaced at the mush on his plate, before making a half hearted attempt to swallow down a small bite. He pushed through his stomach’s instinct to immediately reject it. All his tongue could taste was salt, bitterness. Tony’s eyes are on him now, concern lacing his gaze. Peter forces himself to swallow bite under the stare. “Geez, kid, didn’t know my cooking was that terrible.”

Peter laughed lightly. “Sorry, Mister Stark, you have many other talents, can’t let you win them all.” The fork returned to pressing down on the potatoes, which never went into the kid’s mouth. Something was clearly wrong.

Tony stared at him for a moment, before returning to his own plate. He set down the Stark Pad, turning his full attention on the teenager. “So, anything new in school?” The boy stilled for a moment before shrugging, still swirling the food together.

“MJ’s adding more decathlon practice after school,” Peter supplies, half committedly. “Apparently we really have a shot at making nationals this year if we work really hard.” 

Tony gives an interested hum. “Of course, with you on the team.”

Peter blushes under the praise. “Mister Stark,” he whines and the man can’t help but feel his heart swell a little.

“I mean it kid,” Tony laughs, “You’ve got one hell of a brain in there.” He can't help but take enjoyment in how flustered the boy gets with the slightest bit of praise.

The rest of the night is filled with light hearted banter. Peter complained about school. Tony complained about work. A perfect fit for each other.

At the end of dinner, Tony pretends not to notice Peter didn’t finish his dinner.

* * *

Peter braced himself against the porcelain wall as he watched red eventually turn into pink before swirling down the drain. Torrents of hot water washed over him, mixing with the steady trail of tears down his face.

Another sob tore through his body, shaking his small frame. He attempted to muffle the sound with a hand over his mouth, but the noise still made itself present. He reached forward to turn the water hotter, frowning when he realized the knob wouldn’t turn any further. The temperature didn’t even faze him.

Instead, he reached for the stained white washcloth that rested next to the half used bar of soap. Before he could think, the boy found himself scrubbing at his body once again. He had to get all the dirt off. Hands in his hair. Desk digging into his back. A sharp pain there. He scrubbed even harder and watched it all go down the drain.

He wished it would wash everything away.

“Mister Parker, you have been in the shower for 45 minutes now,” FRIDAY’s robotic voice announced, breaking through the boy’s obsessive thoughts. Peter flinched at the disruption before mechanically nodding, not even sure if the AI would pick up on the movement. He knew he should get out soon to avoid raising suspicion.

Peter shivered from the thought of leaving the water. Under the warm spray, he felt safe. Any unwanted memories could go swirling down the drain, never to be seen again. Outside, however, nothing could catch those memories. Instead, they would stick to his skin in a grimy layer. One that would leave him itching to step back into the water. The shower seemed like a fortress, protecting him from the cruelty of the outside world.

“Mister Parker, if you spend more than an hour I’m afraid I have to notify Mister Stark of this behaviour.”

Peter took in a shaky breath, accepting the fact he needed to face realty again soon. The last thing he needed on his plate is Tony worrying about him. That would only make things worse. With on last scrub to his thighs, he turned the handle with a resounding squeak and the liquid fortress around him crumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kind comments and kudos! This chapter is a little more graphic than the previous so PLEASE head the warnings. 
> 
> Enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism is always welcome :)

“Peter Benjamin Parker, don’t you dare walk away from me!” Tony shouted as he exited the elevator, following the angry brunette who had stomped out moments beforehand.

 

Peter snapped his head to look at the older man, defiance gleaming his eyes. “Or what? What could you possibly do?” Brown eyes challenged the man. His eyes didn’t break contact with Tony’s, clearly searching for a fight.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for arguments to break out between the two. It could be expected, as both males were overly passionate people who always fought for what they believed in. Not to mention they were both stubborn as hell. Almost at least once a week the two would find something to dispute, yet the heated discussions were always patched up within the hour. Thankfully, their bitterness never moved onto the next day.

 

This conversation, however, was not one of those arguments. 

 

“I’ll take away your electronics,” Tony threatened calmly. It was clear neither was planning on backing down from the fight anytime soon. He knew Peter loved talking to his friends, maybe that trick would stop this teenage rebellion. 

 

Surprisingly, Peter practically threw his phone at the older man, who was able to catch it with a slight fumble. Without a second glance, the man pocketed it in his jeans. The boy just stared, waiting for the next threat Tony could dish.

 

“I’ll ground you for a month!” Tony countered. He wasn’t losing this fight. He wasn’t going to let Peter get away for this behavior. He wasn’t backing backing down this time. Peter didn’t flinch. 

 

“Fine by me,” Peter growled, walking away before Tony could process it. The resounding slam of a door echoed through the now empty room a couple moments later.

 

Tony stood stunned in the doorway. He hadn’t expected this to get so out of hand. However, he wasn’t about to let a teenager call the shots. Tony was the adult after all. He knew what was best for the kid. 

 

“Kids, am I right?” Clint laughed, sliding out of one of the vents in the walkway before Tony could go on and continue his fight with Peter. 

 

The older man was still visibly upset from their short screaming match. Quite frankly, Peter had been a real A class brat. This angsty behavior didn’t fit Peter’s personality. 

 

“Honestly,” Tony rubbed his temples, channeling his frustration into revving up for a rant. Clint leaned in to listen, his eyes glimmering awaiting in hearing the latest drama. 

 

“I’m called down to Peter’s school because he directly refused an order from his gym teacher and won’t get changed for class,” Tony started, frustration ringing clear in his voice. He took a sigh before continuing, “And then he acts like nothing happened in the principal’s office. Then, to top things off, I find out that the kid has been regularly skipping history class for the past month. Skipping class! He loves school, what changed? Then, on the drive back he acts like  _ I’m  _ the one at fault for making him face his responsibilities!” By the end of the frustration, Tony’s face was shining red with exasperation. 

 

Clint chuckled, slapping a hand on the man’s shoulder, “That’s rough man, I’m glad I still have a couple years before the teenager period. Kids are such a handful, gotta appreciate them when they’re not being terrible.”

 

Tony paused and considered the words. Clint was right, this wasn’t typical Peter behavior. He should appreciate how well behaved the kid usually is. Maybe it’s just an exploration of teenage angst. Maybe Peter was just having a rough day. Maybe Tony was being too hard on him. Nobody could be perfect all the time. 

 

Excusing himself, Tony exited the entryway and headed in the direction of the bedrooms. He paused when he didn’t hear anything coming out of the boy’s bedroom. No loud music. No annoyed phone calls to his friends. Tony was going to be pissed if the boy snuck out through the window. 

 

Before Tony could finish knocking, the door was swiftly opened. He was greeted by a red faced Peter, who angrily wiped away a couple stray tears. Tony felt slightly guilty knowing he was the source of those tears. “What do you want?” Peter asked, his voice harsher than normal. 

 

Tony sighed. So apparently they were still doing this argument. Despite public opinion, the man was and adult, he had to move past the snark to start an adult conversation. He had to be the mature one, whether he liked it or not. Yelling and fighting wouldn’t solve anything. Peter needed to know Tony would listen. Pepper always stressed communication is vital. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you in Principal Morita’s office,” Tony supplies, watching Peter’s face morph into a look of surprise. Tony had to be the bigger person, despite how painful it felt. He needed to create a channel for Peter to express his feelings. 

 

“Oh,” Peter whispers, more to himself than Tony, clearly not expecting that response. An awkward beat hangs in the air, Peter chewing his bottom lip as he reconsidered his next words. “I’m sorry I was being a brat.” The boy reconciles. 

 

Tony inwardly cheered. He knew Peter often responded well to positive behavior and this case seemed to be no different. He was glad they were finally moving forward towards something. However, the elephant in the room still needs to be addressed. 

 

“You do know that that kind of behavior isn’t okay though, right?” Tony reprimands gently. He knows Peter knows, but discipline still needs to be instilled. This kind of behavior can’t be tolerated. 

 

Peter nods before stepping away from the doorway and falling onto his back on top of his bed. Although the response isn’t significant, Tony will take it. Peter can suffer the consequences of his outburst later. Tony still did have his phone after all. 

 

“Mister Stark?” Peter asks, his tone a stark contrast from the fire it was during their entryway argument. This one was small, unsure. One that’s reserved for late night conversations after long days. One that indicated Peter put his full faith in the older man. 

 

Tony dragged the desk chair next to the bed. Resting his head on the backrest, the man looked up  and focused his full attention on the boy. “Yeah, Pete?” Tony inquiried. The two have been in this formation countless times as Peter often blabbered on about anything his racing mind can conjure up in the moment. The kid, however, seems to be at a loss for words. 

 

Peter shut his eyes briefly for a moment. Suddenly, it seems as if he can’t make eye contact with his mentor. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to make you or anyone else ashamed of me right?” The boy looked at the man earnestly, as if he was expecting to be shot down. He knew Tony wouldn’t want a delinquent for a kid. 

 

Tony blinks. For once in his life he feels speechless. He wasn’t expecting that kind question. He doesn’t even know what would prompt that kind of question. “Of course,” the man reassured, attempting to hide the confusion he was feeling. “I could never be ashamed of you.” 

 

Peter seems to perk up at that statement. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, yet no words come out of his mouth. The gaping motion repeats itself a couple times. An almost inaudible “Okay,” is the only response Tony gets after a too long period of silence. The man has to use all his willpower to not push him further. 

 

The dialogue in the room dies after that. It seems as if all the heated emotions from earlier have been forgotten. The silence drags on, neither male making a move to start up anything else. Tony isn’t sure if he’s doing this parenting thing right. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” the man moans into Peter’s ear, their two bodies infinitely too close for the boy’s liking. A rough hand drags over his smooth chest, pausing to admire the bites that lie just beneath his protruding collar bone.

 

Peter screwed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to ignore the situation he was in. The sick sound of skin hitting skin. The uncomfortable hot breaths that fell on his ears. The overwhelming feeling of hands running all over his body. 

 

The two have been doing this for a couple weeks, with no signs of it getting any easier on Peter. He expects the pain this time, but the knowledge of it coming does nothing to lessen the blinding burn it gives. The hands are too rough, touching him in places he doesn’t even want to touch himself anymore. Everything is too much. He wishes it would stop, but he knows it can’t. 

 

He has to pass history.

 

Peter briefly wonders if he could back out from this. He wonders if he could march right to Principal Morita’s office and make this situation disappear for good. He wonders if anyone would even believe him. He wonders if Mr. Stark would be disappointed. He wonders if he could be clean again. But that would mean admitting to what he allowed Skip to do. It would mean exposing his deepest secrets. That would mean letting the people he lives down. He’s too ashamed to let anyone know what he’s done.

 

Instead, he suffers in silence. 

 

There’s a dull ache in Peter’s jaw. His cotton t shirt is heavy in his mouth. At the very least, it suppresses his screams. The boy’s mind wanders back to when this whole dance was only giving blowjobs. He hated to admit to missing those days. Although very small, at least he still had some pride back then.

 

The ache is in his shoulders too, caused by the strain in his arms. They’re pulled above his head, fastened against a desk leg. It adds to the humiliation. Peter mentally kicks himself for resisting in the beginning. It only made things worse in the end. 

 

A low groan brings the teen back to reality. He wonders how much time has passed. When they do this, it seems like time stretches on forever. After a moment, Skip stutters to a stop that’s accompanied by a groan. Peter feels a new wave of shame wash over himself, inside and out, and the immediate need to take a shower crawls over his skin once again. 

 

“Amazing as always, Peter,” Skip praises, breathing harshly on top of him. Peter doesn’t like the heaviness of the other man. He feels crushed against the desk. A soft kiss to Peter’s jaw makes him want to shed his skin. Everything hurts. 

 

After a moment, the teacher manages to stand up again and buckles his belt. “At this rate,” he states, gathering up his thing to put in his messenger bag, “You’ll be my star pupil.” The boy hates the wink. 

 

Peter can’t help but feel relieved when Skip eases the t shirt out of his mouth. It’s finally over. He moves his jaw slightly to get the stiffness out. The dull click of metal allows Peter to move his hands freely again too. They’re officially done for the day. 

 

The boy lays on the desk motionless as Skip walks around the room, straightening out some desks. These days always affect him more than the teacher. Peter’s still naked, his body too sore in too many places to move. Skip gives him one last chaste kiss before whispering in the boy’s ear, “So perfect, you’ll never let me down.”

 

***** ***** *****

 

“Morning, Peter,” Steve greeted the boy in the doorway, who is still rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. The boy stumbled forward, giving a small wave in return. Steve frowns, despite Peter going to bed at nine, it seems as if the kid had gotten no sleep at all. Before any further dialogue can be initiated, the boy has already started his retreat back to his room, bagel in hand. 

 

Peter doesn’t seem to talk much these days. 

 

Once the click of Peter’s bedroom can be heard, Steve turns to give the other members of the dining room a concerned look. No one missed the bags that took residence underneath the boy’s eyes and they seemed to be getting darker every day. Even more so, Peter loved eating breakfast with  _ Captain Freaking America _ and for the boy to reject the offer was unusual. 

 

“Something's off with him,” Rhodey hums, stating the obvious. 

 

“Maybe it’s that Flash kid bullying him again,” Pepper suggested, searching for a plausible explanation. Peter sometimes was quiet when the constant belittling grew to be too much. Tony nodded in agreement. Peter never knew when to ask for help in situations. He always thought he could handle things himself. 

 

“He mentioned there’s a big history test coming up, maybe he’s just stressed,” Natasha added as an alternative. That was another habit of Peter’s, to not understand his own limits. He had learned the behavior from Tony, unfortunately. The two always worked themselves too hard for the smallest things. 

 

“I bet it’s that new girlfriend of his,” Tony guessed, realization dawning on his face. “She seems to be enough to keep him distracted all the time now.” Oftentimes, Tony has noticed Peter drifting off into space, poorly hidden marks taking residency on his neck. The kid seemed to want to avoid the topic entirely through, blushing everyone Tony mentioned it. 

 

The troubled expression still stayed on Steve’s face as he considered options. “Maybe,” he conceded. “I’m giving a talk at his school today so I’ll keep an eye out for anything out of the blue.” He couldn’t help but feel as if the issue was something deeper. However, he didn’t know Peter as well as Pepper and Tony, maybe it was just a superficial teenager thing after all.

 

He didn’t know, but Steve wanted to get to the bottom of it all. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Footsteps sound throughout the otherwise empty hallway. 

 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sometimes I can be so forgetful.”

 

“Oh it’s really not a problem, Mister Rogers, it’s our pleasure to have you. The kids love it.”

 

“Glad they do, I love to help out in the community. Can’t believe I left my phone though…”

 

The footsteps stops. The doorknob jiggles. A click as a key unlocks it. 

 

“Huh, he must have stepped out-“

 

Both sets of footsteps come to a grinding halt. 

 

“What the hell is going on in here?”

 

Two sets of eyes snap up to look at the new people who stood shocked in the doorway. 

 

Steve can’t believe what he’s seeing. The 1940s, blushing virgin part of him wanted to look away and pretend he didn’t see anything. Intimacy was sacred between two people. That moment should only be shared between them and no one else. However, the modern day, morally driven part of Steve was fully aware that there was something definitely wrong with walking in on a teacher and a student having sex. There were laws against it. There were morals against it. 

 

A couple moments later Steve realizes that this said kid is  _ Peter _ . As in the kid he eats breakfast with in the Avenger’s compound sometimes. As in the kid who Tony will drop whatever he’s doing for. As in the kid who is an absolute genius and sometimes helped Bruce with complicated experiments. The kid is adored by anyone he comes in contact with. This teacher appeared to find something charming about the boy too, and that thought makes Steve’s skin crawl.

 

For a moment, nobody moves. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. A sudden, distraught whine from the teenager makes everybody snap back into reality. 

 

“Mister Westcott,” Principal Morita begins, his voice leaving no room for discussion, “I suggest you leave right away.” The teacher flinched at the hard tone before roughly pulling himself out of Peter, eliciting a whimper, and awkwardly redressed himself as the two adults’ glares watch his every movement. He swept his blonde hair out of his face and doesn’t make a second thought before hastily exiting through the doorway, the principal following. 

 

Silence continues to stretch over the elapsing time. Steve realizes with every moment that passes is a moment Peter is unsure of what’s coming next. He hopes that Peter isn’t actually stupid enough to get involved in a relationship with a teacher. However, the alternative course of events to what would lead to this situation doesn’t rest well in his stomach either. Nonetheless he approaches the boy who is sprawled out on the desk with a tentative, “Pete?”

 

The kid looks up at the soldier with tired eyes, the bags that have accumulated over the past weeks seemingly magnified against his pale skin. The tears that run down his cheeks are still fresh. Steve flinches at the sight of the t shirt he had seen the kid wearing on his way out the door for school that morning that has been shoved down Peter’s throat. He sees the glint of metal at the end of the boy’s arms, keeping him tethered to his spot. There’s blood on the desk. Bruises litter his skin, red marks trailing his sides. It clearly wasn’t consensual. Steve adverts his eyes to the kid’s face to save him the embarrassment of being naked. 

 

The captain in Steve takes charge as he makes a mental checklist of what needs to be done. First, he needs to get Peter more comfortable, maybe find a way to break the handcuffs. Then, he needs to make sure there’s no injuries to the boy that require immediate attention. Afterwards, he can take Peter to the medbay and they can do a full, professional checkup. They’ll figure it out, together. 

 

Thankfully, Steve manages to notice the shine of keys on the floor right next to one of the desk legs. Skip must have dropped them in his rushed exit. With them, it makes it significantly easier to unlock the handcuffs around Peter’s wrists and proceed with step one. Peter hesitantly retracts the limbs closer to his body, but after a couple of seconds of floundering, he clearly doesn’t know what to do with them and settles on wrapping them loosely around his torso. 

 

Realizing that minutes have lapsed without a response, Steve calls out the boy’s name again. This time Peter flinches at the sound, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. The situation is becoming more real with every moment, he’s processing. Really, he feels like vomiting. Steve has caught him in the worst minutes of his life. No one was supposed to know. 

 

Instead of answering the call, Peter slowly sits himself up, and curls into a tight ball. He reaches up to remove the t shirt from his increasingly dry mouth. Steve didn’t like how lethargic the boy’s movements are. The kid was always full of energy, yet it seemed as if it took too much effort for the smallest change in position. 

 

The plan goes completely out the window. Steve has no idea how to move forward. 

 

“Steve?” The boy asks shakily after a moment. His own voice almost inaudible to the normal ear, but Steve’s enhanced picked it up with ease. The super soldier decides to take a seat on the corner of the desk. It isn’t close enough to make physical contact with the kid, but his presence is there to let him know Steve is here for him. 

 

“Yeah, it’s me kid,” Steve placed a hand on the boy’s calf involuntarily, meaning to provide a comforting presence. Peter flinches, causing Steve to quickly draw his hand away as if he’s been burned. He tries not to take it personally, of course Peter may not want to be touched. 

 

“I want Tony,” Peter whispered, before the tears that were caught in his eyes finally escaped. His eyes slipped shut, ashamed of himself. He’s weak. He’s pathetic. He’s disgusting. 

 

“I know, kid” Steve replied, his voice just as soft. Internally, he was panicking, he had no experience with children. He doesn’t know what Peter needs. He’s not even sure if Peter knows what he needs. However, he knew he needed to be strong for the kid’s sake. Peter was holding onto him right now. “I know,” he soothes. 

 

Peter shivers slightly and Steve immediately shrugs off his winter coat to give the boy to cover himself. It was the least he could do. A quick survey of the room for additional clothing only brings back Peter’s boxers and a saliva soaked shirt. The younger boy graciously accepts the boxers, in favor of having more layers between his body and the outside world. The shirt, he politely declines, has forever been tainted. 

 

“I don’t know what to do now,” Peter admitted softly, slightly more dressed, wrapping the coat around himself once again. Steve doesn’t miss the way Peter slightly leans into the older man now. Everything about him screamed innocence and Steve felt his heart breaking for the kid. Steve smiles gently at the boy, realizing it was up to him to take control now. He can’t let Peter fall. 

 

“What do you want to happen next?” Steve prods gently, not really anticipating an answer. Peter shrugs, tears still flowing freely from his eyes. Steve places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to go see Tony?”

 

Despite the kid’s desperate plea earlier, when given the choice he just shrugs again. “Dunno,” Peter whispers, uncertain. He bunches some of his boxers in his hand in distress. The fabric crumples beneath his weak grasp. He can’t help but picture Tony’s disappointed face. He can’t deal with that right now. “Don’t want it to hurt.”

 

Steve’s eyes knit in confusion. “What will hurt, Sweetheart?” He asks, meeting Peter’s wide eyes. He hates the terror that still takes residency on the edges. 

 

Peter just shrugs in response. 

 

After an hour of gentle coaxing and encouragement that  _ No, Tony won’t be mad _ and  _ Yes, I promise Skip can’t hurt you anymore _ , Steve and Peter exit the school and head towards the cadillac where Happy was patiently waiting. Peter wrapped Steve’s winter coat closer around him, shivering in the early December brisk. 

 

In turn, Steve wrapped his arm around the boy a little tighter. The two slipped into the back of the car and Happy drove away, the soft rumble of the engine finally putting the kid to sleep. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

The click of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hallway. Nurses scramble to get out of the man’s way, his face conveying he was in no mood to deal with anyone’s bullshit. 

 

“Tony!” a voice called after him. The man whipped around to come face to face with Happy, who was chewing on his bottom lip. Nervousness radiated off of the man. “Tony,” Happy started again, his voice lower, “You gotta calm down.”

 

Tony bristled at the statement. “Calm down?” he shouted incredulously, capturing the attention of the nearby nurses. In embarrassment, the man lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “I’m called out of a board meeting that Pepper would never let me miss with a phone call saying I need to come to medbay immediately because my kid is in there, and you’re telling me to fucking  _ calm down? _ ” He attempts to shoulder past the shorter man, only to have his wrist caught in a tight grip. The business man’s eyes narrowed in indignation. Nurses exchanged nervous glances amongst themselves, unsure what Tony’s next move would be. 

 

“Tony,” Happy breathed, his voice wavering, as if he knows he’s treading in dangerous territory. It was never good to cross an upset Tony. “Peter’s already in a fragile state, you need to calm down. He’s not going to respond well to anger.”    
  


Immediately, Tony’s face softened at the reminder of the kid. All anger seemed to dissipate out of his system and pure worry took residency on his face instead. “How’s he doing?” he asks uncertainty, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer. 

 

Happy carefully considers the question. He knows Steve had given Tony the rundown of Peter’s situation before asking him to meet them at the medbay, but the actual event seems too delicate still. “He’s with Steve right now,” Happy settles on, memories of Peter crying in his sleep too fresh in his mind, “You should go see him.” The chauffeur blinks away tears from his own eyes, he couldn’t even imagine how the billionaire feels. 

 

Tony nods, continuing the long trek down the hallway at a much less forceful pace. He felt as if he was seven years old again, alone at night in a huge house and unsure of the monsters that could be lurking in the corners. The phone call from Steve is still fresh in his mind, looming over him as he moves forward. 

 

Part of Tony wanted to scream and cry at the cruelness of the universe, while the other part of him wanted to exact a slow, painful death on the man responsible for Peter’s pain. The kid’s only sixteen for chrissakes, he’s in no way ready to deal with this trauma. No age could prepare anyone for this.

 

Once Tony reaches the private exam rooms, his heart clenches at the sight. Peter is curled up on his side, hand wrapped tightly around Steve’s jacket that buries his already small frame. His face is sporting a stark bruise near his left cheekbone, and faint dried tear tracks glisten under the fluorescent light. An unused hospital gown sits at the end of the bed. Steve is occupying the chair next to the boy, pretending to read a book but discreetly casting worried glances to the kid every couple of moments. 

 

After a moment of taking in the scene, Tony knocks softly, alerting the two of his presence. Steve gives a watery smile and Peter doesn’t make any indication he heard the noise. Tony tried not to be fazed. 

 

Attempting to soldier on, Tony crosses the threshold into the room. Peter watches him, with half lidded eyes, as the older man made his way over the bed. “Hey Pete,” Tony calls, emotion lacing his voice. He’s only now is he realizing how far out of his realm he actually is. He knew how to patch up cuts and bruises but this is completely different. Hugs and kisses can’t fix this. Upon receiving no response, the man pats the spot next to the gown with what he hopes appears as a friendly smile, “Mind if I sit?” The teen considers it for a moment before giving a jerky nod. 

 

Both boys barely notice Steve quietly excusing himself.

 

Tony takes a breath, carefully considering what to say next. “Steve told me what happened,” he starts, not quite expecting full body flinch that Peter gives. Without thinking, Tony rests a hand on the boy’s exposed calf as a movement of comfort, silently relieved that the boy doesn’t flinch away from him.

 

Peter shivers a little, pulling the oversized jacket closer to his body. The room’s temperature had been risen since Peter arrived, and Tony himself was starting to sweat, but there was still a small shake throughout the boy. There’s silence for a beat and Tony wonders if he should change the subject to something lighter. Something that will take the kid’s mind off of what’s happening. Peter could talk when he’s ready. 

 

Before Tony can think of another topic, Peter takes a sharp breath in before whispering a gravely, “I understand if you want to go back on the adoption.” It’s the most anyone has heard from him in a while. That realization makes Tony’s heart ache. 

 

The older man can feel his breath being caught in his throat. “Peter,” he starts slowly, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice. The boy’s eyes stay trained on a loose thread on the jacket. Tony’s heartache is turning into heart break. “Pete, can you look at me?”

 

The boy flicks his head up to look at the billionaire, before flitting his eyes back to the thread, avoiding eye contact. Tony sighs softly, soft enough to where Peter doesn’t pick up on it. “Why would I do that?” the man asks, curiosity seeping into his words. 

 

Fresh tears start to make their way down the teen’s face and he looked down to his hands. Tony’s heart shatters. “Because I’m dirty,” Peter whispers barely audible, “Nobody wants a whore for a son.” He closes his eyes in resignation. He’s scared of what Tony will say next.

 

Immediately, Tony feels himself go into overprotective mode. “Pete, I want you to listen to me,” he starts, trying to contain the anger he felt for whoever did this. The last thing Peter needs right now is to think that Tony’s mad at him too. The boy sniffles before nodding his head to indicate he’s listening. He can’t open his eyes yet. He can’t face Tony. “Nothing you did was your fault,” Tony starts, cutting Peter off when his eyes snap open to protest, “No matter what happened, none of this was your fault.” Peter is barely making an effort to conceal his tears now, and Tony wishes nothing more but to comfort him. “I mean it. I love you and no matter what, you are my kid. Can I hug you?” He knows that Peter loves physical touch, but now he’s not sure if that would be crossing a line. 

 

Peter gives another jerky nod before flinging himself into Tony. The billionaire catches him with an “oomph” and Peter’s sobbing into his shoulder. The suit is ruined, sure, but Tony needed a new one anyways. What mattered right now is the Peter feels protected, safe. Peter’s comfort was worth more than any suit. 

 

“I was so  _ scared,”  _ Peter bawls, his voice an octave higher with frustration and panic. The amount of pain he had been feeling over the past months comes rushing over him like a tidal wave. All the shame, all the anger. Hands everywhere, breathy moans in his ear. “I couldn’t stop him. He wouldn’t listen. I’m so-so sorry!”

 

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” Tony soothes, hand going to play with the curls at the base of the boy’s scalp. Harsh touches being replaced by one’s with soft love. Peter holds on to Tony as if his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault. Everything will be okay.”

 

“It hurt so much,” Peter manages to get out between his cries, his face hot with tears and snot. Tony can’t even find himself to be disgusted with another person’s bodily fluids on him. His kid’s comfort always came first. Peter always came first. Peter just holds on and cries. 

 

“We’ll get through this,” Tony promises, hugging the boy tight and never planning on letting go. “I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who has left such nice comments on my work :')
> 
> Just a quick note, I'm going to be leaving for Cali with my family tomorrow as one last vacation before school starts back up! As a result, this might be my last update for about week. However, I included (hopefully) a lot of comfort and some Tony feels as well! Please enjoy 
> 
> (ps I also have an outline for a sequel done)

Nothing is fixed overnight. In fact, it seems as if things get worse. 

 

Peter, understandably, is a little shaky after the initial commotion has simmered down. He is practically an extension of Tony, clearly finding comfort in the man. In exchange, the older man barely lets Peter out of his sight, constantly double checking that the kid is comfortable in whatever they’re doing. He’s more guarded about who gets to be around the kid, who gets to interact with him. He can’t miss another possible threat. 

 

However, the above only applies if Peter even comes out of his room. For days on end the teenager disappears behind his door, refusing the leave the cocoon of blankets on his bed. An adult, often Tony, may attempt to bring him something to eat, but a sorrowful expression and full plate suggests that the motion is unsuccessful. It’s painful to watch how Peter becomes skinnier and skinnier. 

 

Christmas comes and goes. Everyone tries to be cheery, but it doesn’t feel quite the same when they know every smile on Peter’s face is forced. When the New Years Eve comes, Peter stays up the entire night, rather than just to midnight, plagued by nightmares. Tony stays by his side the entire time. When school starts back up again, Peter has a panic attack so bad he has to be picked up for the day. He doesn’t go back after that. 

 

It seems as if everyone is trapped in a weird state of limbo. Peter needs full attention and care. A good support system. Yet, at the same time, it’s important to keep some distance because nobody wants him to feel coddled. Everyone wants to help, but it seems like there’s nothing that can be done. 

 

Tony suffers the most out of everyone. He spends nights on ends pulling up file after file on Skip. He wants to know how he slipped through the public’s eyes. Tony also scours footage of times Peter acted strange. The hickeys. The extra practice. The reclusive behavior. The mood swings. The list goes on and on. Those nights he doesn’t get any sleep, he just obsesses over any material he can get his hands on. 

 

Tony should have seen the signs. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

The scream came before the warning. Moments after the piercing scream could be heard from over the action movie, FRIDAY chooses to pipe up, “Sir, it appears that Mister Parker is in distress.” Tony makes a mental note to reprogram the system to be more proactive in alerting him of Peter’s nightmares. That, however, was for a different time.

 

Nonetheless, the inventor is up at his feet and running before FRIDAY can finish the statement, completely abandoning rest of the team in the living room. Peter had gone to bed promptly after a barely touched dinner, and considering the lack of sleep he had been getting, nobody dared to stop him. That had been hours ago. Honestly, it amazed the man that Peter’s nightmares had held back from disrupting the night until now. 

 

Skidding to a stop outside of the teenager’s bedroom, Tony knocked twice quickly to give the Peter the opportunity to tell him to go away if he’d like. There had been nights where Peter had been inconsolable, wishing to be left alone despite Tony’s better judgment. However, tonight didn’t seem to be one of these nights. Upon hearing no response, Tony entered in, FRIDAY promptly raising the lights a bit so he could make out the outline of a distressed teenager.

 

Over the past month, Tony hated to admit he had become very familiar with the sight in front of him. Peter was struggling in his sleep, rolling from one side to the other, mumbling words incoherently that resembled desperate begging. Tears lined his cheeks, and he was obviously trying his hardest to fight off someone in his dream with no avail. Tony rushed over to his side in an instant.

 

The inventor tugged the blankets off that were wrapped around Peter’s legs, knowing it would give the boy some relief in his nightmare-induced state. Peter hated his movements being constricted, especially asleep. Tony started helplessly, knowing Peter doesn’t like physical contact when he can’t control his own body. Eventually the boy’s brown eyes flew open, Peter himself sitting up with a strangled scream. The scream turned into harsh pants as the kid tried to regain his composure. 

 

“There you are,” Tony soothed, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Peter was still breathing hard and has yet to acknowledge the other man. A couple moments of wheezing and the obvious fact the boy’s condition wasn’t improving by itself, Tony decided something needed to be done. He hesitantly reached out to pull Peter in a hug, relieved that the boy is coherent enough to tell the difference between him and the person in his nightmares. Peter clutches to Tony’s shoulders, and sobs. Tony hates the sound. 

 

Often, the boy’s nightmares weren’t bad enough to leave the teenager in a such a distressed state. In fact, the last Bad one had been almost a week and a half ago. Tony’s heart deflated because he knew Peter would be disappointed in himself for the step back. Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he only had one thought at the moment and that was to comfort Peter.

 

“Shh, Underoos,” Tony whispered, making circles on the boy’s back. His breathing was still too uneven for the billionaire’s liking. “You need to breathe,” he comforted, “Can you breathe for me?” He attempted to make his breathing more exaggerated and Peter tried his hardest to match the rhythm. It was hard though,  _ why was breathing so hard? _ Peter shook his head, face contorted with panic when he realized he wasn’t getting the amount of air he needed,

 

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” Tony soothed, sensing Peter’s panic. In moments like these, Tony wanted to resolve to a blubbering mess too, but he couldn’t. He had to be strong. He kissed the top of the boy’s head, rubbing more circles on Peter’s back. “Shh, you’re okay.” A couple moments later, he felt the boy’s breathing somewhat even out and instead change to shuddering breaths. 

 

“There you go,” Tony murmured, loosening his arms to give Peter more room to breathe. However, the action only caused the boy to grab his arm in a panic, afraid that he was going to be left alone in the dark. “I’m right here, Pete,” Tony soothed, adjusting his grip on the boy, “I always got you.”

 

After a painstaking amount of time, Peter seemed to finally get his breathing under control and the flow of tears steadily came to a stop. Suddenly, just as the two thought they were out of the woods, Peter let out a whimper, accompanied by a distressed, “M’s’r St’k”. 

 

Immediately, Tony scooped the boy up, knowing what was coming next. He got Peter to the bathroom just in time before the kid was spewing the spaghetti Natasha had made for dinner into the toilet bowl. The older man couldn’t help but grimace at the sick sound of liquid splashing against liquid, but stayed by Peter’s side. Once Peter seemed to be finished, Tony gently pushed the sweaty curls out of the kid’s forehead, heart aching and his wet face and red rimmed eyes. Sadness was not a good look on Peter. 

 

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark,” Peter mumbled, face red as he realized the magnitude of everything Tony had witnessed. He accepted the Dixie cup of water Tony offered with a mumbled thank you. Peter swished the residue out of his mouth before tossing the cup in the nearby trash can. He fixed his eyes on his legs, refusing to look in Tony’s direction.

 

When the nightmares had first started, the older man attempted to assure Peter there was nothing to be embarrassed about, the way his reacted to stress was normal and it couldn’t be stopped. The comforting words seemed to have fallen of deaf ears. 

 

Still kneeling on the ground, Peter wrung his hands together on his lap, unsure what to do next. The kid in him desperately wanted to cling to Tony for the rest of his life and not ever let go. To be comforted and coddled. Tony would keep the bad people of the world away. However, the older, more rational, part of Peter knew the man probably had better things to attend to than some wimpy teenager who couldn’t even sleep through the night. That was just life. 

 

Tony, bless his heart, seemed to see this crossroads the boy was at as well.

 

“None of that,” Tony soothed, bringing Peter back to rest against his chest as he settled down on the bathroom floor. He had a wet rag ready and slowly started to dab at the leftover vomit that clung to the boy’s chin. Peter relished the touch. “You’ll always be my number one priority,” Tony assured, seeming to read Peter’s thoughts. He gave a quick squeeze to the boy’s shoulders. “I’d do this over a million times if I had to.”

 

Peter didn’t say anything except give a short nod. He still played with his hands in his life, but leaned heavily into Tony. He loved to warmth and comfort the man provided, even if he didn’t deserve it. Not after what he had let Skip do.

 

“So, what’s next?” Tony prompted a moment later, after cleaning the dried tears off of the boy’s cheeks. In the beginning, Tony had made it clear to Peter that everything was his choice from here on out. Somedays, Peter seemed to take it and run, requesting different foods for dinner or spending an ungodly amount of time with Tony in the lab. Other nights, Peter would give half hearted shrugs, clearly not wanting to bother anyone else with his thoughts. He would be quiet and compliant, afraid he would be abandoned with his thoughts if he said the wrong thing. Tonight, seemed like one of the latter nights.

 

“We could go back to sleep,” Tony suggested, eyeing the bags that rested underneath Peter’s eyes. Bags that dark shouldn’t be on someone so young. When Peter went rigid for a moment, the answer became clear. “Or we could go watch a movie, some of the team was watching something earlier, maybe they’re still up.” Peter seemed to be much more comfortable with that option. 

 

After making a pitstop in the kitchen for a glass of hot chocolate, Peter found himself engulfed in blankets and settled between Pepper and Tony on the couch. He rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, appreciating the fingers that found themselves running through his hair. They were different than the ones in his dream. These ones were loving, careful. While he was sure he still looked like a mess, none of the team seemed to notice and even agreed to sit through Star Wars with him. 

 

Before the movie was beginning to pick up pace, Peter found himself drifting off to sleep again, his body desperately craving it. Just as he was beginning to shut down and fall back to sleep, he smiled at the gentle kiss placed on his forehead. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

The light ding of an elevator alerted Steve of the presence of another human being. The blonde man looked up from the news article that he had just loaded on his Stark Pad just in time to see Tony starting a new pot of coffee.

 

The other man had clearly just finished working in the lab, his grease covered clothes giving away the other man’s activities. His dark hair remained an unruly mess, as if the inventor had run his hand through it numerous times throughout the night. Steve couldn’t help but notice the deep bags that were forming under the man’s eyes.

 

Checking his watch, Steve gave a sigh of sympathy. It was five in the morning. While the super soldier was just waking up for his morning run, anyone could guess the billionaire had yet to shut his eyes for the night. “Late night or early morning?” Steve asked nonchalantly, already knowing the answer.

 

Tony shrugged, pouring a coffee into a  _ World’s Okayest Dad  _ mug Rhodey had gotten him for Father’s Day last summer. Oh, how times had been simpler back then. “I can’t sleep, gotta keep the body busy,” he finally answered, the crack in his voice betraying the emotions he was trying to disguise. Truth be told, the moment his mind wandered away he kept thinking of  _ it _ . Working in the lab kept his mind focused on other things. “Thought I’d be the only one awake at this ungodly hour,” Tony remarks, filling in the awkward space left by such a heavy statement. He wished Pepper wasn’t in China.

 

Steve halfheartedly nodded in understanding to the first part. This past month had been tough on everyone, but not doubt took the biggest toll on Tony. Steve couldn’t blame him - Peter had been hurting and nobody stopped it. In fact, nobody had even realized it.

 

“How’s the kid doing?” Steve asked gently, he hasn’t seen Peter that much recently. Less than usual. He leaned forward on the bar, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

 

Tony pulled out the barstool next to the blonde before carefully considering an answer. Peter’s business was Peter’s business. While the entire team did know what happened to him, he probably doesn’t want his idols to know the gritty details. Tony considered his words carefully, remembering that Steve had witnessed the worse of what Peter had been subjected to. “He’s doing good,” Tony finally decided, his voice guarded, “Given the circumstances, of course. He’s nervous as hell about testifying.”

 

Translation: Peter was not doing good. However, Steve seemed to pick up on the fact that Tony didn’t want to expose Peter too much and decided to transition to a new topic. “And how are  _ you _ doing?” He asked instead, his voice fully laced with concern and understanding.

 

Just like with any other big event, Tony had seemed to decide he didn’t need to care for himself. Rather, he put all his time and effort into Peter, which wasn’t bad, but Steve figured the man needed to give himself a break once in a while. After all, Tony clearly blamed himself for the entire incident. 

 

Tony turned to Steve, his brown eyes clearly displaying every emotion the man was feeling. Hurt. Worry. Anger. Fear.

 

“I could be better,” Tony admitted after a long pause, his voice low, “I  _ should  _ have done better.” An angry tear escaped from the corner of his right eye and Tony made not motion to stop it. He huffed, “I can’t -”   
  


“Tony,” Steve interrupted, slightly taken aback from Tony’s sudden display of emotions. Things had been rocky between them when he first returned, but slowly the two had built up their relationship once again. He was grateful Tony could confide in him. Steve grabbed Tony’s shaking hands, removing them from the mug. “It wasn’t your fault,” the blonde reassured, his voice genuine and sweet, “Nobody blames you.”   
  


“But I-”   
  
Steve ignored the protests and continued, his voice unwavering and certain. “There’s nothing that could have prevented this.”   
  
Tony hesitated before replying. Deep down, he knew Steve was right, but his mind couldn’t stop pushing darker thoughts into his brain. “I should have noticed,” he muttered, anger lacing the words. He ran a tired hand through his hair. “There were signs -”   
  


“Tony.” 

 

“No, Steve,” Tony whispered, dropping his head. He took a deep breath, trying to find the best series of words to express how he was feeling. “I’m Iron Man,” he didn’t even attempt to cover the tremble in his voice, “I protect people all day long. I save them. It’s my  _ job.  _ But then I can’t even protect my own son.”

 

Steve felt his heart clench at the words. “Tony,” he whispered, his voice full of understanding. He hadn’t even thought of that. He grabbed the billionaire’s face, forcing brown eyes to meet blue. “You’re there for him now. And that’s all that matters.” 

 

Tony moved his eyes away from Steve’s scrutiny. “I should have noticed,” Tony whispered, his voice trembling. “I should have known.” Tears starting making faint lines down his cheeks, some cutting through the grease stains that had taken residency beforehand.

 

Steve didn’t hesitate to engulf Tony in a hug. For a moment, the smaller man didn’t respond, relishing in the warmth that Steve provided. Moments later, however, he hesitantly wrapped his arms, returning the hug. 

 

“We’ll figure this out,” Steve reassured, promise and determination evident. 

 

For the time being, Tony simply nodded, letting someone hold him up for a little bit so he could stand a little stronger for Peter later.

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Peter huffed in annoyance at the crumpled fabric in his fist. He took a deep breath and faced the mirror, determination etched on his face. However, a few moments later, it seemed as if he was back to square one. No matter how hard he tried, it just wasn’t happening. 

 

A hard clearing of the throat knocked Peter out of his thoughts.

 

His eyes flickered from the silky fabric to his open doorway, silently relieved it was only Tony who stood there. Peter always felt instant relief at the sight his mentor, now more than ever. The older man always knew how to calm him down during stressful situation. Peter waved to the man, who took it as his cue to join him at the mirror. 

 

“Need any help?” Tony asked, a hint of amusement in his eye. His own tie looked impeccable against his dark striped suit. Peter couldn’t help but look at it in amazement, how could Tony just  _ do that _ ? 

 

“Uh yeah,” Peter’s cheeks tinged pink at the offer, “May used to tie them for me, guess I never had to learn.” The boy’s eyes trailed to his shiny dress shoes, which tapped nervously against the carpeted floor. 

 

Tony’s heart melted at the mumbled admission. Peter often didn’t talk about May, her death still too fresh in his mind. When he did, he always spoke highly of the woman and how careless she was. She always was the ultimate comfort, in a way his new guardian, unfortunately, could never replace. Tony knew the boy was missing her like crazy. Especially today. 

 

Tony reached for the fabric, Peter’s own grip falling limp. The man lined the two ends up on either side of the boy’s neck, starting the process. “You know,” Tony spoke in a low voice, “May would be so proud of you.” He watched as Peter’s brown eyes flickered away from him.

 

Tony knew that mentioning May put him on thin ice. The woman was a topic Peter could bring up to others, but not vice versa. However, he felt like Peter should know that anyone, dead or living, would be in his corner. He needed to know everyone supported his decision to take the stand. The boy was still to anxious for the older man’s liking.

 

“Mister Stark,” Peter began to protest, uncertainty clear in his voice. He fidgeted, bringing his hands together in an awkward clasp. “I don’t know about that, I messed up so-“

 

“No kid,” Tony interjected, black fabric crossed together at the center of Peter's chest, “You didn’t mess up. Even if you did, she would still love you just the same. She would be so proud of how brave you are now. I want you to know that I am too.”

 

In the past couple months, Peter’s self confidence had declined to an all time low. The way he carried himself clearly conveyed he was unsure if he was making the right move in anything he did. He was starting to lose faith in himself and couldn’t understand why the people around him weren’t. He clearly wasn’t any good in his mind. The adults were working on fixing that. 

 

“What if I mess up?” Peter asked timidly, worried eyes meeting Tony’s. “What if I blow the entire thing?”

 

“I’d still be so proud of you Pete,” Tony soothed, his hands pulling the fabric taught. He patted his handiwork before turning Peter with a flourish to look in the mirror. “There! All set.”

 

“Thank you, Mister Stark,” the boy said earnestly, marveling at the simple knot. He ran his hands up and down the fabric a couple times before speaking again. “I really appreciate you being there for me.” The deeper meaning was left unspoken. Both knew the sincerity extended beyond a piece of clothing. 

 

Tony pulled the kid in for a tight hug, “I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered into the curls. Peter wrapped his hands around the older man, taking in the warm comfort. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

“ I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

 

“Sir, can you please state your name before the jury?”

 

“Y-Yeah...I-It’s Peter, uh, Peter B-Benjamin Parker,” the teenager managed to stammer into the microphone. His voice was shaky and uneven, unable to hide the nervousness that the boy couldn’t shake. Sweaty hands rested on the uncomfortable suit fabric that covered phantom bruises on his thigh.

  
Slowly, brown eyes moved from the fixed spot on the podium. They roamed around the bleak courtroom, hyper aware of the number of eyes that were scrutinizing him. A pair that returned a cold glare instantly made Peter feel dirty, despite the shower he just had right before leaving the compound. Shivering, he quickly averted his gaze before finally landing on his family that sat in the public searing, front and center. They looked at him with nothing but love and encouragement in their eyes, clearly showing their support of him. God, how he wanted May to be here. 

 

“And what was your relationship to the defendant?” 

 

Tony caught the boy’s glance and offered a small smile and a thumbs up in reassurance. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. He could do this. 

 

“He-he, was my teacher,” Peter stammered, reverting to staring back down at his unconsciously furled fists. His brown eyes screwed shut and his pale cheeks heated up with the embarrassment of what he would be saying next. How could he be so  _ stupid? _ Looking back on the moments, he should have stopped it before it started. “I-I thought,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thought I could trust him.”

 

He could do this, just one sentence at a time. 

 

***** ***** *****

 

Tony put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, who flinched at the touch. After a moment, however, Peter settled into the touch, grateful for the grounding presence of his guardian. Likewise, Tony wasn’t fazed by the reaction. Peter often had a bad initial reaction to touch due to his senses now constantly being on high alert. Especially when he was nervous.

 

And boy was Peter nervous. That morning the kid had taken about three bites of Pepper’s pancakes before he found himself vomiting what little food that was in his stomach. The entire drive was spent by Tony coaxing the kid down from what could have escalated into a panic attack. Sitting here now in the courtroom, Peter’s jiggling leg practically vibrated the entire bench along with it. The kid looked like he was going to be sick again.

 

Tony opened his mouth to offer the kid some reassurance, but was cut off by the sound of the gavel hitting wood. Tony felt Peter tentatively reach for his hand, which he engulfed with his own without a second thought. A tight squeeze to the boy to let him know Tony was there for him.

 

For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped. Everybody waited with baited breath to hear the results of the trial. Yet, at the same time, nobody wanted to know in fear of bad news. Every person in the room radiated stress, anxiously waiting to hear the fate of the man on the stand. Time moved too slowly as the judge reached to break the seal of the off white envelope in his hand.

 

“The jury has found the defendant guilty on all accounts.”

 

Just like that, it seemed as if someone had pressed the play button on time again. Peter sat stunned, the words playing over and over in his head like a broken record. Skip had been found guilty. Skip is going to jail. Skip can’t hurt him again. He can’t suppress the first sob that escaped his lips. He was safe again.

 

After a couple seconds, he registers gentle hands guiding him to stand up from his seat. They walk forever, before he feels himself being placed gently on a bench. He can’t help but relish at the soft feel of the plush cushions. He hears noises, but they sound too far away for him to bring himself to care. It isn’t until Tony is right in front of him that he realizes he had started crying. And crying hard.

 

“-ter? Peter can you hear me?” The man’s voice suddenly become clear. The noises seem to be coming closer. After a minute, the boy gives a weak nod, struggling to control his crying. “Peter can you look at me?” The boy raises his brown eyes to the man, sobs subsiding to hiccups after a few short moments. 

 

“Peter are you alright?” Tony asks, his voice laced with concern. Alright? Peter feels better than alright. He feels like the world has been lifted off his shoulders. Like he can finally breathe again. Realizing he needs to give an answer, he enthusiastically nods his head. He’s never felt lighter. Tony’s face morphs from frantic concern to passive relief.

 

“Have some water?” Steve asks, appearing out of nowhere with a bottle of water. Peter accepts the beverage, gulping down half of it before returning it to its owner.

 

“It’s over,” Peter whispers, more to himself than anyone. “It’s finally over.”

 

“It finally is Pete,” Tony laughs, more at the amazement of how happy Peter is right now than anything else. He’s happy the boy can finally start to feel safe again. That he can have the comfort that Skip can never come near him again.

 

Steve wraps his arm around Peter on the bench and the three sit in silence for a couple a little longer, Peter still riding the aftershocks of the day’s excitement. It isn’t until the rest of the team comes looking for them that they realize it’s time to go, leaving Skip behind forever in the courtroom. 

 

* * *

 

“You did good today.”

 

A mop of curly brown hair jiggles as its owner looks up from the half melted ice cream in front of him. “Thanks,” Peter mumbled, resuming to swirling his melted concoction with the silver spoon in the glass container. Tony frowns, the kid obviously did not believe a single word he just heard. 

 

“Hey,” Tony says, his voice soft and caring. “Look at me.” It takes a moment, but Peter slowly moves his chocolate brown eyes to meet the older man’s. “I mean it,” Tony starts, “I’m really proud of you.” 

 

Peter ducks his head again, his face turning a slight shade of pink. “Tony I-”

 

The man cuts him off with a wave of his hand, clearly not finished talking. “It takes someone really brave to do what you did,” Tony states earnestly, voice filled with fondness and pride in his boy.

 

“I don’t feel that brave,” Peter admits, shame leaking into his words. Tony was really starting to grow tired of hearing shame in the kid’s words over the past couple of weeks. It didn’t match his caring and outstanding personality. It shouldn’t be up to one person to decide how the boy viewed himself for the rest of his life. 

 

Tony internally sighed at Peter’s stubbornness, debating how to move on with the conversation. It would take months of building the kid back up for him to see his potential. He shifted, taking a bite of his own sundae while considering his options. “I was going to wait until your birthday, but,” the man started nonchalantly, pulling a manila envelope out of what appeared to be nowhere, and sliding it in Peter’s direction, “I think this situation calls for an early gift.”

 

Peter eyed the envelope, accepting it warily. He flipped open the front, gasping once he realized exactly what he was looking at. “Mister Stark I-I-” he stuttered, honestly lost for words. “How?” his small voice carried awe and surprise all at once.

 

Tony smiled, leaning back in his seat after finishing off his last bite of his own food. “Figured you would like it.”

 

Confusion still filled the boy’s face and Tony couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable he looked. There wasn’t any fear or uncertainty in the boy’s eyes. It was almost as if Peter could have untainted childlike wonder again. “I have a couple connections,” the business man shrugged, “it’s been official for a while.”

 

For the first time in what seemed like eternity, Tony saw a genuine smile form on the boy’s face. It melted the man’s heart to see the kid so happy. “Thank you,” Peter beamed, “Thank you so much.” His hand ran across the words on the single sheet of paper. An adoption certificate with his name on it. His own adoption certificate. He’s officially adopted by Tony Stark. His childhood hero.

 

“Any time kid,” Tony says nonchalantly. Internally, he’s thrilled that Peter is so excited to have him as a parent. He can’t believe that Peter still has faith in him to guide him in the right direction, no matter how much Tony himself feels like a failure. “I’ve always considered you my kid, now it’s official.”

 

Peter stared him. He couldn’t believe that after everything that has happened, Tony still wants to adopt him. After all the bad decisions, late nights, and harsh fights, Tony still wanted him. He feels like crying, but honestly feels as if he’s out of tears for the rest of his life.

 

“I love you,” Peter chokes out before his brain can stop him. “I love you so, so much.” He feels all the emotions he’s felt over the past months wash over him like a tidal wave. For the first time in a while, he knows things will truly come out alright. Tony wants him. He’s still loved.

 

“I love you too, kid,” Tony smiles. “Now let’s go home.” 

 

The two leave the ice cream parlor, arm draped around each other, giggling at the birds they pass on the way to where Happy is parked three blocks away. Tony wishes time could go on forever like this, spending quality time with his kid. His kid who still points dogs out excitedly in the street, waving at the small children they pass. It was almost as if Skip wasn’t a looming dark cloud that took residency over the kid’s life.

 

Maybe things would be okay after all.

  
  



End file.
